LGBTQ+ Cinema Club

“You don’t scare us… we’re fabulous!”

Welcome back to the LGBTQ+ Cinema Club, where I dig through my never-ending watchlist of queer films and occasionally stumble across something so campy, so oddball, so gloriously French that I can’t help but grin. This week’s pick? Poltergay (2006), directed by Éric Lavaine. I was in the mood for something silly and fun, and wow—this absolutely fit the bill. Think Ghostbusters meets disco-era fabulousness, but with a very gay twist.

Quick Info:

• Title: Poltergay
• Year: 2006
• Directed by: Éric Lavaine
• Starring: Clovis Cornillac, Julie Depardieu, Lionel Abelanski, Gilles Gaston-Dreyfus
• Where I Watched It: A late-night DVD binge (yes, I still do those—don’t judge)

Queer-o-Meter:

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 (4 out of 5 Pride Flags)
Rated on sheer gay energy, sequined ghosts, and disco lighting. This one’s literally haunted by queerness.

One-Line Summary:

A straight guy buys a house haunted by five disco-loving gay ghosts, and his life spirals into campy chaos while his girlfriend thinks he’s losing his mind.

Standout Scene:

The first time Marc (Clovis Cornillac) actually sees the ghostly gay gang, it’s pure comedy gold: flashing disco lights, synchronized choreography, and five spectral men who look like they stepped straight out of a 1970s club poster. Honestly, I half-expected Donna Summer to appear in a glittery apparition.

Favorite Line:

“We’re not here to haunt you… we’re here to help you dance.”

Would I Rewatch?

•  Absolutely
•  Maybe… with wine
•  Once was enough
•  I’ve already watched it 3 times, send help

Review:

Okay, so let’s be clear: Poltergay is not high art. It’s not going to change your life or win Oscars. But as a queer comedy-horror hybrid? It’s an absolute hoot.

Marc and his girlfriend Emma move into a creepy old house. Unbeknownst to them, the place used to be a disco club back in the late 70s—a disco club that, thanks to a faulty wiring accident, ended in tragedy. The victims? Five fabulously flamboyant gay men who never really left. So now, Marc is plagued by visions of polyester suits, booming beats, and ghosts that know their way around a dance floor. Emma, of course, can’t see them at all, which makes Marc look increasingly unstable as he stumbles through his haunting.

The humor mostly comes from that mismatch—Marc panicking while the ghosts are just vibing in the background. It’s campy slapstick with a queer twist, but underneath all the silliness, the movie actually sneaks in some sweetness. These ghosts aren’t malicious; they’re lonely, they’re stuck, and they genuinely want to help Marc (even if their methods involve more mirror-balls than exorcisms).

Clovis Cornillac sells the whole “straight guy losing his mind” shtick pretty well, but honestly, the ghosts are the stars of the show. Each one has a distinct personality—there’s the sassy one, the nurturing one, the fashion-obsessed one—and together they feel like a found family trapped in the afterlife. Watching them bicker, banter, and ultimately support Marc gives the film more heart than I expected.

And I’ve got to give props to the set design. The mix of spooky old-house gloom with bursts of rainbow lights and disco balls is weirdly charming. It’s like walking into The Haunting of Hill House only to find out the ghosts are hosting Studio 54 in the basement.

If I had a tiny gripe, it’s that the movie doesn’t fully embrace its own absurdity. Sometimes it leans too hard on Marc’s heterosexual panic rather than letting the ghosts’ campy chaos shine. But still, the pacing keeps things moving, the comedy lands more often than not, and I genuinely laughed out loud more than once.

So, yeah…

If you’re looking for spooky scares, this ain’t it. But if you’re craving something campy, fun, and unapologetically queer, Poltergay is like a glitter bomb going off in a haunted house. I wanted silly and fun, and that’s exactly what I got.

The Cinema Club Verdict:

⭐⭐⭐⭐
4 out of 5 Pride Flags. Docking one flag because I could’ve used just a bit more actual disco soundtrack (but maybe that’s just me).

So—have you seen Poltergay? Or do you have another campy queer horror-comedy I need to toss on my list? Drop me a rec, or yell at me on BlueSky.

“Sometimes I like to be sentimental.”

Welcome to the very first entry in my new series: LGBTQ+ Cinema Club!

If you’ve followed me for a while, you probably remember my 365-movie-a-day challenge — where I posted a whole bunch of film reviews, one after another, until my eyeballs were basically permanently glazed. I had a lot of fun with it (and watched some truly bizarre things), but I also got some feedback that made me pause. A few readers mentioned my posts were… a tad long. And that the lack of headings made them feel a little like falling into a dense thicket of film opinions. Fair! I did use paragraph breaks (I swear!) but I guess it still got a little heavy.

So this time around, I’m switching it up. For LGBTQ+ Cinema Club, I’ll be breaking my reviews into clean, easy-to-digest sections — like bite-sized pieces of a queer film snack tray. Hopefully that makes things more readable and more fun for everyone. I plan to keep this format going forward, so if you like it, let me know!

Anyway, let’s talk about our first pick: My Life with James Dean — a whimsical little French comedy that made me want to take a long, pensive walk along a windswept coastline and flirt awkwardly with strangers.

 Quick Info:

• Title: My Life with James Dean
• Year: 2017
• Directed by: Dominique Choisy
• Starring: Johnny Rasse, Mickaël Pelissier, Nathalie Richard, Juliette Damiens
• Where I Watched It: Dekkoo – a streaming service for Gay men. They have a lot of art house films.

Queer-o-Meter:

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 (4 out of 5 Pride Flags)
Rated on how gay it feels — characters, themes, vibes, chaotic queer energy. This one? Pretty darn queer.

One-Line Summary:

A sweetly awkward film director stumbles into a seaside town to promote his new gay indie flick and gets tangled up in small-town shenanigans, unexpected romances, and some very charming chaos.

Standout Scene:

There’s this moment where Géraud (played with fluttery-eyed melancholy by Johnny Rasse) is left alone in his hotel room and just… spirals. It’s not dramatic or anything — more like quietly existential. He watches his film alone in bed, mopes adorably, and looks like he’s one sad playlist away from writing angsty poetry in the margins of his travel itinerary. It hit me square in the “wow I’ve totally been there” center of my soul.

Favorite Line:

“Love is always possible, isn’t it?”
Why does this line live rent-free in my head? I don’t know. But it does.

---

Would I Rewatch?

•  Absolutely ✔
•  Maybe… with wine
•  Once was enough
•  I’ve already watched it 3 times, send help

Review:

Okay, so here’s the thing about My Life with James Dean: it’s not a big, sweeping romance or a high-drama coming-out story. It’s a quirky little mood piece that sort of meanders in the best possible way. The film follows Géraud Champreux, a timid and very soft-spoken filmmaker who’s traveling to Normandy to show his obscure gay film, “My Life with James Dean,” to like, three people and a confused usher. He’s a delicate little disaster of a man, constantly losing his phone, getting stuck in stairwells, and quietly pining for any man who makes eye contact. Basically, he’s all of us.

The town he arrives in feels almost Wes Anderson-y in its weird stillness. There’s a theater manager (played by Nathalie Richard) who’s very intense and very French, a boyish projectionist (Mickaël Pelissier) with dreamy eyes and a motorbike, and a whole cast of oddball locals who don’t quite know what to make of this melancholy gay film they’re supposed to be screening. And somehow, amidst all the social awkwardness and sleepy seaside pacing, this film becomes the backdrop for Géraud’s accidental flirtation with the projectionist, a sweet, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it romance that made my little heart squeak.

This isn’t a movie that throws big plot twists or steamy drama at you. It’s tender. And kind of weird. The characters all feel like they’ve wandered in from different plays but somehow make it work. It’s also got this meta thing going — the film is about showing a film about James Dean, and at one point you start wondering if you’re watching the film being shown within the film, or if time has folded in on itself. (I love when French cinema does this sort of thing without feeling the need to explain itself.)

Visually, it’s charming as heck. Normandy looks overcast and poetic. The soundtrack is spare but lovely. And the acting? Subtle, understated, and a little theatrical — like everyone’s performing in an indie stage play they’re only half-memorized. But honestly? That’s kind of the appeal. There’s something refreshing about a queer film that isn’t trying to make some big Important Statement, but is just vibing with soft longing, creative insecurity, and tender weirdness.

Final Thoughts:

This one snuck up on me. I thought I was in for a slow, artsy detour — and I got that, sure — but also ended up giggling, sighing, and feeling a little fluttery in the chest. My Life with James Dean doesn’t try to impress. It just is. Like an awkward hug from a stranger you accidentally bonded with over your mutual love of Jean-Luc Godard. It’s sweet, strange, and unapologetically queer in its own meandering, low-budget way.

Also, random true fact: James Dean once said, “Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die today.” He never actually visited Normandy, but his ghost kind of haunts this film in spirit. (Source: Biography.com)

 The Cinema Club Verdict:

⭐⭐⭐⭐
4 out of 5 Stars. Docking one star for the kind of pacing that makes you wonder if you’ve forgotten to press play.

If you’ve seen My Life with James Dean — or have one I need to add to my queue — let me know in the comments or yell at me on BlueSky.

Until next time,
Stay fabulous and keep watching queer stuff!

---